There's no particular situation during which this
already always listening
occurs or in which it doesn't occur. If you tell the
truth about it, you'll hear it in all situations. You'll hear it
everywhere. It's omnipresent.

The essay is in two parts - that is to say it's a song (if you will) in
two-part harmony. The first part,
A Man For All Seasons,
illustrates "This isn't it" occurring for a person who lives in
the world.
The second part,
A Monk For No Reason,
illustrates "This isn't it" occurring for a person who renounces
the world.

Like I said: it's everywhere.

A Man For All Seasons

It's pernicious. It's rampant. It's a certain way of
listening
which, when it
shows up,
is always pertinent to the current situation, so it seems to be unique
each time. Yet what it conveys, regardless of the situation, is always
exactly the same: "This isn't it,
something's wrong
here, this isn't good enough.".

Alexandra
and I were preparing to visit her deans at Roskilde
Universitet in Roskilde
Denmark
to finalize her second
master's
thesis. The journey we were planning would culminate an enormous
triumph, a
victory
lap for
Alexandra
(for me too, actually). I shared with a
friend
about our upcoming travels and our purpose for going to
Denmark.
He said "You know Laurence, that's not a good time to go - it's very
cold in Europe at that time of year.".

This rampant way of
listening
doesn't
intentionally
denigrate
celebrating.
Rather, the thing about it is it's a
listening
which hears "This isn't it,
something's wrong
here, this isn't good enough" in anything and everything. I call it
Eeyore'slistening
(if you're a fan of Winnie-the-Pooh, you know what I mean). And
there's
nothing wrong
with it. Eeyore's just being Eeyore. The thing is: without
intervention, there'll never be any other possibility for
him.

I'm a man for all seasons. I enjoy dry baking heat and bucketing
rain
equally. I take them as they come. The weather is the weather. It is
what it is. It doesn't determine
who I'm being.
Dress appropriately. That's how I handle the weather when I travel.
Simple.
CelebratingAlexandra's
triumph is unaffected by the weather. When we
celebrated
in a summer heat wave in
Rome
recently, we
celebrated
... and ... it was hot. When we
celebrated
in a winter snow storm in
London
recently, we
celebrated
... and ... it was cold. Having it that the weather
obfuscates the
celebration
ie having it that the weather determines the quality of the
celebration,
is tantamount to not
showing up
for the
celebration
at all.

I don't require the weather to be any particular way before Life can be
great. However the weather,
this is it.

One of my favorite people is a
monk.
He's a rare and beautiful man. He's so expressive and
creative
that I can get
who I really am
just by
watching
his
facial
expressions and his animated gesticulations. He beams like a lighthouse
in a
storm.
He says he became a
monk
in order to get better as a person, to practice contemplation, and to
seek
enlightenment.
Those are his reasons for becoming a
monk.

The way his
mouth
suddenly opened wide then shut again when he started responding, told
me he had it on full knee-jerk automatic - at least at first.
But then to his credit, he stopped. He
listened.
Then he nodded his head (to himself, not to me) and smiled.